I Go, Then At Your Bidding, I Go
by Estel Baggins
Summary: On his death bed, Richie asks a question.


**Title:** I Go, Then; At Your Bidding, I Go

**Author:** Estel Baggins

**Rating:** T, just to be safe. It's probably much less.

**Pairing:** Virgil/Richie

**Warnings:** slash, Christianity (again the unnecessary warning), character death (it's happy, I promise!)

**Summary:** On his death bed, Richie asks himself a question.

**Author's Note: **What Richie sees and hears does not necessarily represent my views.

**Author's Note 2:** This is my second one-shot. It probably doesn't take place in the same universe as "Telling Tales" and "The Miracle of Three", but I'm not sure. And for those that I've written to, especially Moonjava, this one flowed better.

Please review- I need to know if this went better than "Blue Lake." It felt better to me, but that's no guarantee.

**I Go Then; At Your Bidding, I Go**

If I leave, what will happen to V?

I've been asking that question since time out of mind. I mean, there was a time when I didn't ask the question, but I can't remember how long ago it was or anything about that time except that I wasn't in a bed.

Guess I should take that orderly's advice and just be glad I don't have Alzheimer's. But I'm not grateful for anything much anymore, unless you count the fact that I'm old, so dying's expected.

Oh, and I'm saved, and V's saved. There's that to be grateful for.

That orderly- he's an asshole. If he'd been in the Big Bang, he would have been like Shiv: annoying, dangerous, but stupid for all that. His name is Craig something-or-other, and he likes to hurt. Other people, I mean, not himself. He likes us old fogies to know that he's young, he's strong, and he can do anything he damn well pleases. Just as long as he isn't caught at it, I mean.

So he gets away without changing the sheets for three or four days, not changing the bed pan for forty-eight hours, not bringing meals.

'Course, there's a part of me that doesn't want to hold onto life, so I don't mind missing a few meals. But the stink of my own body… I hate it. Maybe I should have taken Backpack up on his offer and transferred my mind into him long ago.

Never. I'd never want to outlive V.

Still, I wish Backpack was here now. I could have him write down my thoughts, then have somebody read the thoughts to Virg. But Backpack can't be here. Even now, what seems like a hundred years since we were superheroes, even here, a thousand miles away from Dakota, I wouldn't risk exposing our secret. No one will hurt V. No one will. I won't let them. I'm just glad he's stronger than me, that maybe he'll have the chance to die in his own bed.

I'm glad he'll never have to put up with an orderly like Craig Kiss-my-ass Crawford. Ha! That's his name. Crawford the Cowardly, the Crayfish, the Cock-sucker.

For some reason, I don't think men in their nineties are supposed to think words like that. At least, I would have been shocked if my grandfather had ever said anything like it. He never did, of course… but maybe he thought it.

By the way, it looks like I'm grateful for a lot of things after all. Virg always told me I was pure, that I never let anything or anyone conquer me, destroy me.

Someone's here. The door just opened. I think it's too early for Coward (I'll stick with that one for a bit), but that also means it's too early to be V. Who's coming in here to bother me so early?

"Mr. Hawkins, your daughter is here to see you."

I try to smile at her; I'm grinning inside. Mr. Hawkins. I love it when they call me that. One of the only cool things about dying (yes, I still think the same as I did when I was sixteen, or at least I still use many of the same words) is knowing that my death certificate will read Richard Foley Hawkins. Yup, I got the middle name changed, too. I owe my parents something for trying to raise me the best they could, even though they cut me off financially when they found out I was gay. Didn't matter; I had a full scholarship, anyway.

Now, the nice nurse didn't say which daughter, or why she was being allowed in so early in the morning. Maybe it's later than I think. Maybe Cock-sucker's just sick today. Or he skipped. Who cares which it is?

I feel her cool hand take mine. "Hey, Dad."

It's our lovely Susannah, our middle girl, third in a line of eight children. Ah, the miracles of science. Each beautiful child made from Virg's sperm and one of mine, altered enough to be like an egg.

But something is wrong with our sweet angel. Her voice is tight. Even if I can't speak because of the breathing tube, even if I can't see, my ears are sharp as ever. I squeeze her hand with what little strength I have and try to ask what's wrong. _God, please help me to help my little girl. Please help me to comfort her in her need. This I ask in Jesus' name. Amen._

"Dad… He's dead."

_Who?_ I squeeze her hand again.

"He died an hour ago. He had a heart attack. He was gone before I could even call 911. And neither of you wanted to be resuscitated, so I-"

No. She can't mean… But she said 'the two of you'…. Virg! V, please tell me it isn't true. Tell me you're still here, that you're still…

Susannah is crying softly now. I can hear her sobs. Then her cool fingers are on my cheeks, and I know she is wiping away my tears. No, Suze, leave them. I want the whole world to know that I am crying for my husband.

_Lord God, have you welcomed him? Does he wait for me at Your side? Will I be able to hold him when I come to You? Lord Christ, Savior, is he sitting at your feet, listening to your stories? Will I sit there? And how long until I do?_

"I'm sorry, Dad," Suze is whispering. "I'm sorry. There was no warning."

Many times there isn't a warning. Death comes when we least expect it. I squeeze her hand again. I am the exception, Honeybee; don't blame yourself. It wasn't for you to know the time or the hour. It isn't for any of us to know. But, Virg… Please don't leave me here. I am selfish enough to beg that of you. Please take me, too.

"Richie."

What miracle of science is this? I blink, and the world first brightens, then focuses. I've never been able to see this well without my glasses. Susannah is still beside me, holding my hand in both of hers and weeping softly, but all I see is the strong young man standing at the foot of the bed, holding out his hand. He isn't wearing his white mask, but the rest of his gear is like it was when he was seventeen.

"Rich, it's time to go," Virg says. "Stand up and come with me." A light shines behind him and I see Him waiting there, His arm around V's shoulders.

"Come, Richie," He says, and I want to go to them both, but I can't get up.

_I don't have the strength, Lord. I can't even breathe without the tube in my throat._

"I will be your breath, Richie," He says and when he also holds out His hand, I realize He's right; I don't need the tube anymore.

Feeling stronger than I have in years, I climb out of bed and hold out my hands to both of them. When we touch, I start crying. I can't help it. To be touched by such a young and such a timeless hand at the same time…

Glancing down at myself, I think to be ashamed of my old man's flesh and my hospital gown, but I find myself clad in my Gear costume, and my hands are strong and sure.

"You have done well, Good and Faithful servant," the Lord Jesus Christ says, and I laugh, relieved and so glad to be taken into His Kingdom at last.

V draws me to him and kisses my cheek. "Come on, Rich; let's go home."

As we go, I think to look back at Susannah, and I see that she's crying harder now. She must have realized that I, too, am dead. "Lord, will You comfort her?"

"Always."

Virgil draws me so close I swear we'll never be apart again. "We're safe now, Rich. Let this world go and come home."

I lay my head on his shoulder and feel his warmth surround me. "I love you."

We're leaving now; the room where I died is fading. Virgil whispers in my ear, "I love you, too."

The room disappears and everything is light.


End file.
